


the five times geordi saw data (& the one time he didn't)

by ravenhairedtrickster



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhairedtrickster/pseuds/ravenhairedtrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geordi as he sees Data.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the five times geordi saw data (& the one time he didn't)

i. _sight_

He sees echos of light, shades of red and grey and black, occasionally mustard yellows and muted, ugly greens. This doesn’t bother Geordi, he's learned to live with it, pick and choose what he sees, what his focus is. While the Enterprise sees the unfiltered images streaming from his visor he sees something else entirely. 

Still, it's interesting, getting the chance to share the world as he views it, alien and chaotic to those with actual sight. Data finds it fascinating, studies the footage in his time spent off the bridge. Geordi feels a prickle of anxiety when Data does this, analyzes everything. 

He rarely comments on his own self when he appears. 

Geordi watches him now, the room glowing in saturated reds, Data sitting still in his chair. 

And Data breaks the concentrated silence.

“Do I always glow like this?” 

Geordi smiles, rolls his shoulders in answer, his mind outlines the arc of bright light tracing Data's being, “Yeah.”

Data ponders this and promptly settles for: “Interesting.”

 

ii. _touch_

There's nothing more terrifying than uncontrolled darkness. Geordi flounders, his visor lost in the quake that violently rocked the planets surface. He doesn't bother feeling around, it's probably buried or shattered in the rubble that followed the tremor. 

It's his academy psych evaluation all over again and he's reaching out with trembling fingers. 

“Data!?” There's a weakness in his voice that he hates, the overwhelming sensation of fear welling within his gut. It threatens to spill over the threshold and down his cheeks. 

“Geordi are you unharmed?” Data's voice splits the darkness, calm, collected, almost surgical in nature. 

Geordi jumps when a cool synthetic hand wraps around his outstretched digits, Data abruptly pulls him forward and they’re hip to hip – his hand sweating in Data's cool grasp. “I am reading elevated heart rate but no physical injury-”

“I'm fine,” Geordi manages, steps into Data's side for guidance. “Just blind.”

“It appears your visor has been destroyed,” Data reports, voice neutral. 

“I figured, let's find a way out of here.”

It's a stumbling affair on his part but somehow they find their way out of the cave. Geordi has never missed fresh air so much, outside and able to establish communication with the enterprise he stands close to Data. 

Doesn't let go of his hand.

 

iii. _sound_

Geordi listens to the silence, or there lack of – the bridge is it's usual cacophony, the Enterprise has never been a quiet lady. From his seat he hears the turbolift open and slid shut, heavy footsteps carry down to his left and he knows it's Riker just from the shift of his uniform, his unmistakable gait. 

Everyone has a sound and Geordi knows them all, especially one. 

Data is unique, his fingers eliciting a different sound when they skim over the smooth displays. Geordi hears it all and yet Data remains one of the quietest on the bridge, his breathing calculated perfectly, no loud intakes of breath, no gasps, no nothing – sometimes if he listens hard enough Geordi thinks he can hear other parts of Data's anatomy in motion, the gears that work to move his joints, the fold of bioplast at his naval when he sits, no longer able to remain taunt and perfect. Geordi has to marvel at Dr. Soong's artistry, no doubt beneath Data's StarFleet issued uniform his body accurately mimics the natural state of fat, skin and muscle. 

Geordi thinks on that for a nanosecond too long. Because Data shifts beside him, the pads of his fingers dancing along the display before him and a second later when he's gone silent he does something Geordi has never heard.

Data licks his lips obscenely (or has he?)- “Are you alright, Geordi?” Comes the inquiry because Geordi has failed to plot in the coordinates Riker just ordered from somewhere beyond the slickness of Data's tongue.

“Just fine, Data,” he grinds out.

He hears the dumb smile on the androids face. 

“If you insist.”

 

iv. _taste_

Out of all the fantasies Geordi has conjured up in his mind – and on the holodeck, though he'll never admit it – he has never imagined Data's mouth to be so hot, so moist. He feels as though he could melt just from that point of contact.

“Is this acceptable?” Data asks, silky hair brushing Geordi's chin as he works his way back up. 

“More than accep-” his words are swallowed by sweet tasting lips and his thoughts scrambled by Data's knee pressing so perfectly between his legs. 

Kisses litter the entirety of his face and he notes the care Data takes to not overwhelm him, how his grip is loose should Geordi want to wriggle free and stop. 

“Don't stop,” Geordi murmurs, sighs contently as Data worries one spot with tooth and tongue. “Just please don't stop, Data.”

“I do not intend to,” Data assures and their mouths meet suddenly once again. And Geordi is gone, lost in the damp heat. 

 

v. _sight ii_

Geordi wishes he could stare for all eternity. He sees the appropriate colour now with his new eyes, Data's waxy pallor, so pale, his black rimmed eyes, faint but thick lashes touching his cheeks whenever he blinks. The gold is the most striking thing, how his pupils dilate as though they need to, as though Data hasn't been programmed to do just that, as if it's a natural reaction to light. 

Geordi notices things he never saw before through his visor. How Data's nose is tapered at his brow, how he looks down through half lids at his console, how his lips are thin and his tongue pink. How he has sculpted wrinkles that turn to crows feet at the corners of his eyes then smooth out the second his face is neutral once more. 

How _human_ he is. 

Geordi wonders how he went so long knowing Data only as a bright aura, or his voice, how his skin feels against Geordi's lips, chest, narrow hips that fit between his thighs – as though Data was made for him. 

“Geordi?” Data asks and he's caught. 

“Yes, Data?” 

“Is there something wrong?” 

Data gives him a look akin to confusion as he smiles.

“No, nothing's wrong.” He assures. He wishes they weren't on the bridge, with the crew to their backs. 

Data turns back to his console, his fingers moving with calculated swiftness, Geordi finds it fascinating. 

“Commander, may I have a word with you in the ready room?” He asks Data suddenly after shooting a questioning look to Riker who nods his approval. 

“Of course, Geordi.” Data replies.

Geordi watches Data slide effortlessly from his seat and follows him into the room – the doors press shut behind them. 

And maybe he should've thought this through because when he catches Data's mouth he sees the surprise register on the androids face. Geordi only steps back when he's out of breath and Data's lips shimmer in the low light, wet with saliva. 

“You wanted to speak with me?” Data asks, cocking his head innocently. 

Geordi can only laugh.

 

vi.

Geordi stands stock still, unable to process what he's just seen. It's been confirmed through the comm, and he smacks his badge to shut it up. He'll be late to the meeting called in the ready room, how it somehow managed to survive the assault while Data... 

He storms to Data's room. When he gets there he can only step cautiously into the door way. This place feels sacred now. Spot meows insistently and he bends to scratch her behind the ears. She doesn't purr, instead weaves close between his legs before bounding away. Geordi wonders whether she knows, senses what has happened. 

“I'm sorry,” he calls after the orange tabby because that's all he can do. 

He slips further into Data's living quarters, opens a door – a closet that embodies the late android, rows of pristine, pressed uniforms and casual clothes. Geordi almost cries. 

He wades deeper, passing through two other rooms that hold little. 

He finds B-4 in the last room, unresponsive and confined. Geordi can't help himself, it's like he's seeing a ghost. His hand crawls along B-4's back, and his fingers slip into the hidden port, he brings the android to life with a gentle press. 

“Greetings,” B-4 chirps and _god_ he's so similar, so familiar yet when his yellow eyes find Geordi's face it's all wrong, how he twitches where he stands, how he doesn't lean in for a kiss. There's no recognition. Geordi now feels tears. 

“You are upset,” B-4 says, though he seems unsure how to proceed. “Why?” 

“Long story,” Geordi says, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

B-4 tilts his head – so much like Data – and says with all the naivety in the world, “I like stories.”


End file.
